Tabula Rasa
by Grey Alchemist
Summary: Chuck has lost his memory. He has no idea who he is or who he can trust. The only thing he knows for sure is that some very dangerous people want him dead and some other equally dangerous people want him for ... well, he hasn't figured that one out quite yet.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note:**_ An advantage of writing fan fiction is that it is based on other already-established works. Your readers, for the most part, already know the characters you're writing about. That allows me to cheat, which I'm going to do. I am dropping you off at the end of this story; think of it as the third act of a movie. I enjoyed many of them, but, after reading origin story after origin story, the end is the only part of this I really wanted to tell. It's not a long one, but then, none of my stories really are. Chapter 2 will be up next week. So, read on, and I hope you enjoy.

**-0-**

**Call of the Unknown**

There was a ringing in his ears. It was all he was really aware of. Then, he was pressed up against something. The heat had been suffocating moments before; it felt like his lungs had been on fire.

It was hard to breathe. It was hard to think. A million images flashed through his mind, all with no discernable meaning. The ringing played on.

All he was aware of was the fluctuating static perpetually present in his field of vision.

His eyes were closed.

His ears felt wet, his nose, and, was he crying?

He was on his back.

That much he managed to conjure, at last.

The high pitch lingered…

With a pained groan, courtesy of his entire body protesting the move, he turned over. Slowly, he blinked his eyes open and he gingerly glanced around. He saw the world through a red tint before his vision cleared. It was bright. He was outside... where?

He found himself on the ground; singed grass all around. Burning chunks of debris scattered throughout … a yard.

He tried to push himself up off the ground. His vision narrowed and darkened, collapsing in on itself, a feeling of vertigo overtook him. The ground called to him, pulling him back with all its might.

He fell in place, dead to the world.

**-0-**

A chorus of disjointed sound welcomed him back to consciousness: the ringing was gone. Movement was difficult. He was in a bed, in a white room. His eyes were open for only a few fleeting moments before the darkness reclaimed him.

**-0-**

She was there again, checking up on him. She didn't know he'd woken. He wanted it that way. How he was able to pull it off? An answer to that would have to wait for a more favorable time.

A nurse, he concluded. The same one every time.

He was in a hospital, recovering, from what he could gather. He still hadn't managed to figure out from what. But the handcuff around his wrist told him it couldn't have been anything good. What the hell had happened?

Footsteps.

"Nurse, any change?" A male voice, he'd heard it a couple of times before.

"No, sorry. He's still not awake." She sounded young.

"It's been three days," the man responded. "Any idea when he might be up?"

No response.

"Fine, but as soon as he's up, let us know," the male voice spoke again. "He's our only suspect in that explosion and we have no idea who he is. It'd be nice to have some answers."

Having only the black canvas that was his inner eyelids to filter things through was frustrating. He had no idea what these people looked like. No idea where he was. But every fiber in him told him he needed to get out. The police, it seemed, wanted to get their hands on him and he couldn't let that happen. He had to find out what had happened to him.

Then it registered. _"We have no idea who he is…"_

Ever since he'd regained consciousness he'd been too busy trying to figure out the situation without getting caught. He'd been analyzing everything except for one thing: himself.

His mind started spinning, working through everything he could recall. It soon became very clear: he had no idea who he was.

"I have to go check on my other patients," the nurse responded, "but I'll keep that in mind."

A couple of seconds after the nurse departed, the man she had been talking to made his way out of the room, too. "I'll be back later; I'm not done with you…"

Once again, he was in his room, accompanied only by his many frustrating thoughts. He was hurt, badly. It would definitely hurt, but he had to go. He had to get somewhere safe… as soon as he figured out where that could be. The only thing he knew for sure was he couldn't stay in the room much longer. They would not doubt figure out he was awake soon and then he would be trapped.

His body tensed instinctively. The air in the room suddenly changed. He didn't know how, but he felt it, something was different.

Someone was there with him; but how? He hadn't heard any footsteps coming. He had to keep playing pos—

"I know you're awake." _That_ _voice. _"Come on, Chuck, let's not play this game."

The rapid eye movement started. He couldn't control it. What was happening? Where was all this coming from? Was his memory coming back? No. This was something else, another question to add to the pile. "Bryce Larkin," he said calmly as he slowly opened his eyes. The complete visage of the man standing at the foot of his bed filled his sight. _FULCRUM, rogue spies, Larkin._ He didn't know how this all connected to him, but he did know that Bryce Larkin was dangerous, a killer; and _he_ was defenseless.

"Why so formal, buddy?" Bryce offered as he grinned, cold blue eyes looking on. "You've caused me a lot of trouble, Chuck." _Chuck?_ Was that his name? Why couldn't he remember? "I lost some good agents in that house." _House?_ "But it was all worth it, because now I have you, and I can finally put an end to this."

Chuck looked on, impassively, from his bed. He couldn't give an inch to this guy. He couldn't show any fear. Not that he was feeling all that much fear to begin with, which became more unsettling than the thought of dying.

"Don't think I'm not going to miss our cat and mouse games," Bryce said as he started to move toward Chuck, "but … I have people to answer to and they want you dead," he added, slightly shrugging his shoulders, "what are you gonna do?" A gun appeared in his hand.

"Bryce!"

Bryce's head swung around just in time to see John Casey arrive at Sarah's side just outside the door.

_Crap!_ That was not good. Casey had a tendency to want Bryce dead; he had the scars to prove it. He knew he was good, but even Bryce Larkin couldn't kill Chuck _and_ take on both Sarah and Casey at the same time, not if he wanted to get out alive. "Sorry, Chuck, gotta go!" he said as he ran for the window. "Catch ya next time, buddy!" The glass shattered as Bryce dove through.

Both Casey and Sarah ran after him but, by the time they reached the window, Bryce was gone. No sign of him. Three floors up, that kind of impressed Casey, not that he was ever going to admit that to anyone. Instead, he just growled. "Damn, he's gone. What the hell happened back at that house, Bartowski?"

From his bed, Chuck lay motionless, watching the events unfolding before him. Hoping for any insight he might stand to gain. All he had was two more strangers in his room he seemed to know a lot about . . . somehow. First, it had been all about the tall blonde. Then as soon as he saw the big, gruff guy, he started to know things about him, too. What the hell was going on? What was he involved in? They seemed to know him. What did it say about him that everyone around him was turning out to be a vicious killer? He wondered. At least these two worked for the government and they did chase away the guy trying to kill him. That was something . . .

"Hey! Bartowski!" Called the big guy again.

Chuck snapped out of his thoughts to look straight at both of the other people in his room.

"Chuck, are you okay?" The attractive blonde asked.

_Now_, _what_? He thought. How was he going to get out of this one? They would want answers and all he had were questions. Chuck had a feeling they wouldn't take that well.

"I'm fine," Chuck responded. Not wanting to give anything away. He knew that behind that pretty face hid a dangerous killer.

"Good for you pinhead," Casey chimed in. "Now, what happened?"

"It was an ambush. Bryce was waiting for me. I barely got out." He took a shot and waited for their reaction.

"I knew you shouldn't have gone in alone," Sarah said. "I shouldn't have let you." _Interesting_, thought Chuck.

"Relax, Walker, look at him," Casey nodded, "the moron's fine." _That_ was interesting, too, he thought. Chuck had been staring. "What? Got something to say?"

"Huh? No," Chuck quickly shifted his gaze, "The explosion, you know, it's a little hard to hear right now." He tried to point to his ear but the handcuff yanked on his wrist, which reminded him, "Hey, can you guys do something about this?"

"I could, but maybe I'll just leave you here for the locals, teach you not to get caught," Casey replied with a smirk.

"Casey, come on," Sarah started, "we have to get out of here. Bryce could come back any moment with backup and we can't lose the Intersect."

_What the hell is the Intersect?_ That would have to wait. First, he really needed to get out of here.

"Fine," grumbled Casey. In one quick motion his gun raised and fired, instantly shattering the cuffs in half, freeing Chuck. "There…"

"Casey!"

"What?" He shrugged his shoulders.

"What was that?!" Sarah demanded.

"You said we need to get out of here, didn't you? Do you have a key? 'Cause I don't," Casey said as he pointed to himself with his gun.

"I could've picked the lock," she argued.

"Hmm … I guess you could have," he ceded. "Now you don't have to. Let's go."

Chuck blinked. Staring at his newly freed wrist, with half a cuff still attached to it, all he could think was, _crazy bastard's gonna kill me._

**-0-**

_**A/N:**_ For those of you that are still interested in my other stories, I appreciate the messages you've sent me and I'm trying; but like I've said before, I can't promise anything. It's taken me over a year from my last post to get this out, but seeing the recent activity on my stories motivated me to finish this one. It's amazing the effect a review has on a writer and I appreciate every single one of them. Even though I've stopped responding to them like I used to, I do see every one of them, along with favorites and follows, so thank you, they mean a lot.


	2. The Two-Sided Coin

**A/N: Happy New Year!**

**-0-**

**The Two-Sided Coin**

John Casey. Sarah Walker. Cover identities. Chuck's eyes flowed back and forth between the two, seeing nothing but the back of their heads the entire ride down. They were in the elevator. He was standing behind them, for his protection they'd said. That was fine with him. He was still in his hospital gown … it could get embarrassing. He may not have known who he was but something told him modesty was big with him.

"Come on, moron, what are you waiting for?" Casey had said in the room, shifting his gaze back to Chuck. "Let's move!"

"Hold on, I have to put my clothes on." Chuck quickly refocused his attention to the two strangers in his room.

"No time, Bartowski," Casey argued. "Move! Move! Move!" He'd demanded as he snapped his fingers.

"It'll take two seconds."

"Do I have to carry you out of here?" Growled the bear of a man.

"No, I'm going, I'm going." His eyes darted to the blonde for a split second, most recently going by SarahWalker her file said. He didn't think the Major much cared about his modesty. In fact, even though he had just met him, for the second time it seemed, Chuck was pretty sure Casey got some sort of twisted pleasure from seeing him in humiliating situations. Maybe, just maybe, it was because of the smirk he had on his dumb face the entire time he was bossing Chuck around. Or maybe Chuck was just imagining things …

"Walker, eyes front," he'd said with a grin as they walked toward the elevator. "I'll never understand what you see in Bartowski's pale, bony behind." Probably not.

There was an almost imperceptible flinch from her. It seemed he wasn't the only one Casey liked to pick on.

So, here they were, in a confined space. A tiny little metal box slowly descending into the bowels of the hospital. And Chuck had nowhere to go to get away from these two. Again Chuck tried his hardest to remember anything about who he was, what he did, anything at all. Nothing came. There was a wall of darkness where his memories should have been and try as he might he couldn't break through. Every single time it was the same. His search would slam straight into the black; it was like an itch he could not scratch. He felt it right at the top of his brain: a physical manifestation of the mental breakdown. Chuck was trapped in the now. He knew he would not be able to fool them for long and they would not be happy when they did figure it out. This Intersect thing sounded like serious business. _How the hell did I get involved in this?_ Chuck watched the numbers above him count down ever so slow.

"Chuck? Are you listening?"

His eyes darted furiously toward the blonde. _Walker_, he remembered. "Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah, sorry." _Crap._ He wasn't listening. He had been lost in his thoughts.

"Moron," Casey muttered as he rolled his eyes. "Distracted by the pretty lights?" Chuck wanted to punch the sneer right off his face. _Am I a violent man? Am I just like them?_ Not knowing was frustrating.

"I asked if you were okay. Any pain?" She genuinely seemed concerned. He would've bought it if the Intersect hadn't shown him who she really was.

"Aside from in every single bone in my body? You know, from the whole getting blown up thing? No, I'm good." That sounded mean. He didn't think he was mean. Chuck regretted his tone immediately. He was going to apologize until he remembered she could kill him, so he let it go. The elevator came to a stop. There was a ding and doors slid open.

**-0-**

They moved quickly through the parking garage. Chuck didn't even try to hold his gown closed anymore, wincing as he walked faster than he wanted to, to keep up with his escorts: his body had just reminded him he'd recently been through an explosion and he was not ready for this much activity, as if he needed help remembering that piece of the puzzle. He concentrated on keeping up. They were heading toward a black sedan parked in an empty corner.

Casey and Walker moved for the front seats. "Back seat, moron."

Chuck shook his head as he got into the car. This Casey was really annoying. At least he could lay down in the back seat. The only thing missing was a serious pain killer. He let out a big sigh as his body hit the seat. It wasn't big enough to fit his entire body but it was better than standing and walking. It would have to do. Plus, he could finally change into his clothes. Tattered and charred as they were, they were still better than a hospital gown.

"Okay, Chuck, just sit tight back here. You're safe now. We'll be able to get you some proper treatment soon," the blonde said.

Chuck nodded. It seemed to him like he didn't have much of a choice in the matter. He was going whether he wanted to or not. He still hadn't figured a way out. He thought about swinging the door open and jumping out of the car as soon as they were in public but that made his entire body tremble in anticipation of the pain that was sure to accompany such a move. The goosebumps on his arms were enough to change his mind. So, he was stuck.

"Yeah, Chuck, just sit tight and relax," Casey said looking through the front mirror. "I promise it will be a smooth ride."

"_Casey…_" she warned.

"What?" He turned to his partner. "Calm down, Walker. The kid took his lumps and he's still going. He's tougher than you give him credit for. He's sure as hell tougher than I gave him credit for." He quickly looked back up through the mirror, "That's not an opening for your lady feelings, Bartowski." Just as quickly, he turned his attention back to his partner. "Stop babying him… he deserves better than that."

"I–"

"He's earned it," Casey interrupted before she could continue. "He's not your asset anymore. He's not just your pseudo-boyfriend. He's an agent. He knows what he signed up for, just like you do."

Chuck sat in silence, watching the interchange happening at the front of the car. _Huh… maybe I was wrong about C–_

"An idiot agent who let himself get blown up, but still, an agent…"

_Yup… there's the Casey I know… sort of…_

**-0-**

Chuck burst through the rooftop door. There was nothing. He looked around at the bright blue sky. There were no clouds, a day as clear as could be. At any other point, Chuck could see himself really enjoying the view. This day, it just made it obvious that there was no helicopter coming to spirit him away and that scared him.

"Sorry, Chuck," Bryce offered as he walked through the rooftop door. "No one's coming. It's just you and me now."

Chuck looked behind Bryce at the open door. "Cas—"

"Casey's busy at the moment. So's Sarah. Honestly, I can't believe they used this extraction point for the Intersect." Bryce stepped forward closing the door behind him. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining; but still, I'd hoped they were better than rookie mistakes. Oh, well." Larkin shrugged slightly.

**-0-**

_Welcome to Culver City_, the sign had read. They had told Chuck they were going to meet up with someone called Longshore on the roof of a building. He would be taking them to their final destination.

_Longshore … of course they have code names. 'Cause why wouldn't they? And a helicopter? How am I supposed to jump out of that?_

Casey didn't bother parking properly when they pulled up to the building. They weren't coming back, and it was a rental.

"Come on, Bartowski. Pick up the– _rgh_…" The shots rang out as soon as they exited the car. Casey was hit in the shoulder.

"Chuck! Run!" Before he could protest, Walker grabbed Chuck by the shoulder and half dragged, half shoved him into the building. Casey was right behind them, shooting back at the men that had suddenly appeared from all directions. Fulcrum had found them.

"Chuck, you have to go," she said as she shoved him into the elevator. "Get to the rooftop. Get to Longshore. We're right behind you."

"But–"

"Go, Bartowski! They can't get the Intersect."

Chuck wanted to stay and fight. One look at the gun in Casey's hand and he knew everything he needed to know about how to use it. He was sure he could. Probably better than Casey could. But he also felt the pain overtaking his body from all the running. He would only get himself killed, and probably both of them right along with him. It was best that he did as he was told.

"Ah!" There was suddenly a needle sticking out of his arm.

"Adrenaline," she said. "You're going to need it."

_Where did she even get that?_

That was the last thing said between the three individuals before the doors closed.

The elevator didn't go up all the way to the top floor. He had to run up two flights of stairs in order to make it to the roof; well, at least something that he called running considering his condition. The adrenaline was working, but that wasn't a good thing. He could feel his body straining.

He finally made it to the top.

Chuck burst through the rooftop door.

**-0-**

There was no one coming. He was alone.

"Come on, Chuck. Let's not make this harder than it has to be." Bryce Larkin started to walk toward him. "Let me just finish what I started back at the house and we can all call it a day and go home," he seemed to reconsider his last statement fancifully. "Well… not _you, _but you know, me."

"That's not going to happen."

Larkin's stance shifted. His hand disappeared behind his back. When it began to emerge again, there was a gun in it. "Okay. We'll do this your way."

The next few moments took an eternity for Chuck. Everything was happening in slow motion. He knew what the gun was. He recognized the other man's posture even though he'd never seen it before. He knew what Larkin was about to do and what was about to happen. It was the Intersect again. It was going to save his life. Finally, something good from all of this.

Chuck saw himself lunging forward reflexively and gave into whatever the thing in his head was going to do. A struggle for the gun ensued. They were evenly matched. If Chuck had been at 100%, he could have ended things quickly; as it was, he didn't know how much longer he could hang on.

Every punch and kick Larkin threw he was managing to counter. But it cost him every time, too. If he didn't get the upper hand soon, he'd be finished.

With his last burst of energy, Chuck resorted to flipping Larkin over his shoulder and wrestling the gun from him.

Bryce knew his grip on the gun would break. Chuck was too good when he used the upgraded Intersect, that's why he'd wanted to shoot him instead of fighting him hand to hand. But even in his current state he was too much. Bryce needed to give himself a chance to get away. He let go of the gun and put everything he had into one last punch to Chuck's gut. He would incapacitate him long enough to get off the roof.

"Ah!" Chuck screamed as the pain overtook him. It was unbearable. The adrenaline was gone. The gun dropped from his hand.

Bryce was wide-eyed as he hit the ground. The red liquid quickly pooled around his chest.

His punch had broken one of Chuck's already fractured ribs. It had punctured his lung, causing him to pull on the trigger of the gun in a knee-jerk reaction. He hadn't meant to … he wasn't aware he had.

"You … you shot … me," he said, looking up at Chuck. "I'm impressed."

"No, no, I didn't–"

"It's okay, Chuck," Bryce said weakly, as he laid dying. "You did me a favor … I'm free. Thank you."

"No–" Chuck fell to his hands and knees. Right beside the dying man. He started coughing. It was bloody.

"You know … we were friends once, remember?" He said in a feeble voice. "You were my brother."

Bryce slowly reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out an old worn cufflink. "I'm sorry, Chuck."

Chuck looked at it for a moment and the information started flooding in.

"I … killed you … after all." The cufflink fell from Bryce's hand. He was gone.

They were friends. Or they _had_ _been_ friends, he didn't know how long ago. It was true. The cufflink was part of a pair Chuck had given to Bryce for his 20th birthday. They seemed happy.

Chuck couldn't hold himself up any longer. He fell onto Bryce's chest. He felt the blood on his cheek and eye. It was warm. He couldn't catch his breath. His lungs burned. He was drowning. His vision started to tunnel into darkness. It was torture.

Chuck Bartowski. Bryce Larkin. They seemed happy …

.


	3. The Devil You Know

**A/N:** Here's the last part of this story.

**-0-**

**The Devil You Know**

His eyes flew wide open, simultaneously he inhaled loudly and deeply. His lungs hurt, they hadn't breathed on their own in who knows how long. He ripped the mask off his face and sat up. Disorientation overcame his mind. His memories were fuzzy. He shut his eyes and gripped the sides of his bed. Calming himself down; controlling his breathing; clearing his mind. Panicking wouldn't do any good. He had to get his bearings. His mind began to clear. He started to remember. Opening his eyes, he recognized the Fulcrum medical room. He'd been to one many a time, they all looked the same. His grip on the bed tightened. They'd brought him back again … why wouldn't they just let him die? They had taken everything from him. Why couldn't they just let him die? They didn't need him anymore, Chuck was dead, the Intersect was gone.

He just wanted some peace. But he couldn't get it, even in death. Fulcrum wouldn't let him.

The soft _swish_ from the sliding door, caused him to lift his head. Coming to stand at the foot of his bed was none other than the Director himself. "Agent Larkin," he greeted. "Welcome back."

Bryce continued looking on. "Why?"

"Why what?" The Director asked dryly.

"I did what you wanted. I took care of Chuck. I was done. Why am I here?"

"You're done when Fulcrum says you're done." He paused. "You're not done." The Director pointed to folded up clothes, neatly set on the chair beside his bed. "Clean yourself up, Larkin. You've got work to do." With that, he casually turned and started walking away. His back firmly turned to Bryce.

He could so easily snap that smug bastard's neck. It wouldn't even take much right then.

"You could try it, of course," Bryce heard the Director's voice say. "I wouldn't fault you if you did. It wouldn't end well for you, but you could try it."

At least he'd be dead; _it would all be over,_ Bryce thought. "No … I told you, you're not done."

Bryce remained quietly sitting on his bed until the door closed behind the Director.

He heard a terrible wail over take the room. The pain being almost too much to take. When the tears in his eyes blurred his vision, Bryce realized he was the source of the horrifying noise. He was crying. He was pitiful. How had he fallen so far?

Bryce allowed himself a couple of moments to feel sorry for himself, then dried his eyes. He regained his composure and deliberately climbed out of his bed. Mechanically, he put his suit on, piece by piece. Looking in the mirror, he saw the life in his eyes that had been missing since his days at college, days when he and Chuck were inseparable.

After one last look, he slowly closed his eyes. When they opened again, the cold blue stare he'd become so familiar with over the years was back.

As he adjusted his tie, looking in the mirror, only one thought ran through his mind: They were going to pay. They were all going to pay. For what they did to him, for what they did to Chuck. Only then would he allow himself the privilege of dying…

**-0-**

He woke up. His head was a jumble. Opening his eyes, he saw a familiar sight. He was in a hospital room … again. That was getting old. Had he been in another explosion? Hadn't once been enough? He really needed to—

Wait … He died. He had actually _died_. Everything started coming back to him. The rooftop, Bryce, the fight. What it felt like to take his last breaths and know he was not coming back. He couldn't have survived. How was he alive?

The monitor in the room came on and there he saw two people he didn't recognize staring back at him. One, an older woman in military uniform; the other, an older man in a suit. Neither of them a picture of friendliness.

"Bartowski?" The woman started.

"Yes?" His head turned to focus on her.

"How are you feeling?"

"Um … Okay, I guess." Before he could think about it, he asked, "Do I know you?"

He'd been consumed with thoughts of his death, but as soon as the question was floating in the air, he knew he'd made a mistake. Their stare turned inquisitive and it sent chills down his spine.

"You don't know us?" The woman asked.

"I told you this was a bad idea," the man on the other side of the screen chided.

"We don't know how bad it is," she replied.

"He was dead, for god's sake! And we used Fulcrum technology to get him back. Who knows what that did to him?"

As they continued arguing, Chuck noticed a pin hanging on the woman's collar and immediately knew that was General Beckman, he was right to be fearful. The watch the man was wearing was all he needed to see to know that was Director Graham of the CIA. Another lovely fellow. _Aw… hell… I was better off dead. _

"Calm down, Director," General Beckman commanded. "Let's send in the doctors to check him out, then we will proceed."

"You'd better hope the Intersect is intact, Diane."

The screen went black without as much as a sideways glance toward Chuck.

It was nice to be missed, thought Chuck derisively. Bryce was right: they didn't give a damn about him. Their only concern was the Intersect. Not that it wasn't great to be alive again, he didn't want to die in the first place, but he knew they only brought him back for that damned thing in his head.

The one thing he had going for him this time around was that they thought they were responsible for his memory loss; that was good. They could go on thinking that. On the negative side of things, he still couldn't remember anything from before the explosion.

He had a lot of questions… again. But he knew what Bryce told him and he knew what the Intersect had told him. That was all he needed for now. Bryce … poor guy. No one deserved what had happened to him. The more he thought about it, the more it became clear they were on the same boat. The government was using him the same way Fulcrum used Bryce. He wasn't going to let that happen anymore. No one was going to control him.

First he'd make Fulcrum pay for what they did to his friend. Even if he didn't actually remember their friendship at all, it was undeniable that they had been friends; and Chuck owed it to his friend to make sure Fulcrum could never harm anyone else again. Only then would he be free to turn his attention to his own Fulcrum. The lesser of two evils, _for now,_ he thought.

A team of doctors came rushing into his room and he was taken from his thoughts. But he had a plan. And he was going to see it through… god help whoever got in his way.

**-0-**

**A/N:** Well, that's the end of that. Told you it'd be short. I do hope that if you took the time to read this, you enjoyed it. I've been away from this site for almost two years now, and the more time went by, the harder it got to put myself in a place where I wanted to write about _Chuck_. I don't feel it anymore. I've forgotten characters, storylines, plot points, and frankly, I don't feel like going back and watching any episode of the show. That's what happens when a show I like completely falls apart. I thank each one of you that has p.m.'d me to ask about my stories. I've read every single notification of favorites, follows, reviews, and everything else. I can't believe my stories are still getting any of that this far out. It feels good to know I wrote something people are interested in. I just don't know how to write for these characters anymore. I pretty much don't care what happens to them. That's my opinion, you don't have to share it, but it does make it near impossible for me to continue writing these stories. My old computer broke down right after I posted the first chapter of this story and I lost these last two chapters. It took me this long to recreate them from scratch; and, believe me, I tried like hell. That should give you some idea of the block I have. This is the end of the road for me. It was a good experience, but all good things and all that. So, thank you all, one last time. I've been Grey Alchemist and you've been a great audience.

-G.A.


End file.
